Breath of Life
by ToscaThorCat
Summary: a challenge given to me by Sonic Winchester. I was to write a story using Breath of Life by Florence Machine, and was not allowed to have Italy in it. The tragic tale of Joan of Arc and Francis.


Breath of Life

_**A/N: This fic came to be because I got the idea to challenge Sonic Winchester to write a fic to the song Say Something (I'm Giving Up on You) and she fired back with the challenge to write a fic to Breath of Life by Florence + Machine. Without further ado, Breath of Life**_

I lay awake in my lavish bed, the scent of roses wafting through the air. My home is always full of roses. As I close my eyes, I see a flash of golden locks, and hear HER.

"Francis! I got another vision the other day! I know how we should mobilize our troops for the next battle!" Her voice causes my chest to tighten. I turn, and there she is, my love, Joan.

"Francis? Why are you crying? Are you alright?! Has something happened on the frontlines that I haven't been shown yet?" She asks frantically, grabbing my hands in her slightly rough hands.

"Oui. I am fine." I reply, a small smile gracing my face.

"Thank goodness!" Joan sighs, relief evident. "I don't know what I would do without my favorite commander." She smiled coyly.

"None of that! We are at war, no?" I fire back, flashing my "trademark" grin.

"I leave for Compiègne at dawn." She was suddenly back in business mode.

It was a few days later that I got the news I have been dreading since I discovered I had feelings for her; Joan has been captured by Britain's men. She had been pulled from her horse, and forced to surrender.

One of my men comes running into the camp, and stops breathless before me.

"Lady Joan is being held at Beaurevoir Castle! I got here as soon as I found out!" the young man gasps out, clutching his knees as he bent over to catch his breath.

"We are going after Joan!" I roar, calling my men to action. We don't stop during our march, traveling night and day through the French countryside, but the beauty of my surroundings means nothing to me. We arrive at Beaurevoir Castle in the late evening, but when we arrive, I am devastated to hear that she had been moved to Arras. Again, we mobilize, to find once again she has been moved before we arrived, this time, to Rouen.

I try so hard to get her back, I really do… I try three times while she was in Rouen, held by those brutish Burgundians.

It is in May when I hear the news. I have been planning another rescue attempt, when a messenger comes running into the camp. Joan has been sentenced to death, for heresy, and cross-dressing. He also reports the unfair trial she had… it was so biased that she never had a chance… and if I fail to save her now, I will lose her forever.

I rush towards Rouen again, abandoning all sanity. All I can think about is Joan, her smile, her laugh, the way she makes me feel complete. I HAVE to save her.

I don't make it in time. I get there just as the British light the pyre. Arthur is standing in the back of the crowd, looking distinctly sick, but I pay him no mind. The only person on my mind is Joan, a makeshift cross around her neck, and flames licking the pillar on which she stands.

"JOAN!" A primal scream tears itself from my throat, as I attempt to push through the crowd. A pair of arms restrain me, and I struggle with all my might against them. "JOAN!"

"FRANCIS! It's too late!" My heart seems to be shredding itself in my chest.

"Joan!" I sob, as the pillar falls, obscuring Joan from view.

"Rake back the coals." A cold voice comes from the front of the crowd. A young British soldier complies, struggling not to vomit at the smell, and the sight of the body he revealed.

"Burn it again." The voice drones, not caring that this was once a proud young woman, not even twenty years old.

I can no longer feel, it seems. I can see them burn her twice more, but it doesn't register in my mind that she is dead. She can't be… I love her… she can't be gone.

"Toss the ashes in the Seine." The man says, turning away from the scene as if it were merely a matter of what he wanted for dinner that evening.

The arms holding me back finally release me, and I fall to my knees.

"Francis? Old chap?" the soldier hesitantly asks.

I turn to face none other than Arthur Kirkland, the personification of Britain, the country that just murdered my love.

"YOU ASS!" I scream, punching him across the jaw. "I COULD HAVE- I COULD HAVE SAVED HER! I COULD HAVE SAVED JOAN! I – I wanted to marry her… I know it wouldn't work in the long run, but… we would have made it work… she… she was the best thing that has ever happened to me… WHY DID YOU TAKE HER FROM ME? WHY?!" I shriek, grabbing his collar and twisting it, pulling him from the ground.

"I couldn't stop it, Francis. I tried, but my boss… my boss wouldn't listen to reason, he plowed through with an unfair trial… I really did try to stop it, but he threatened me… he said he would destroy one of my brothers if I continued to oppose me…" Arthur reached a hand towards me.

"Don't touch me!" I hiss, releasing him.

"Francis…"

"I said don't touch me!" I punch him again, this time the punch barely grazes him.

I jerk awake in my bed, sweat pouring down my face.

"Joan… I am so sorry… Je te aime. Toujours ."

_**I know some parts are not accurate, but others are what I found online. So… for a fic I threw together in 4 hours it isn't that bad…**_


End file.
